


Trick of the Light

by AppleSoda



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Canon Related, Character Study, F/M, Fluff, Horror, Personal Growth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-06-14 19:55:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15396204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AppleSoda/pseuds/AppleSoda
Summary: A hunting expedition to stave off jealousy towards his elder brother doesn’t go the way that Prince Takumi of Hoshido expects it to. On the way down from the mountains, he and his retainer Oboro are intercepted by a woman who has something to ask of them.





	Trick of the Light

It was difficult wrangling the temperament of a prince that was fully committed to resenting that he was second best. That anger had been what set off a day where Prince Takumi of Hoshido’s aim was off. Oboro watched as he slung two rabbits over his back, carefully tying his prizes together with twine.

 

“I could have gotten that boar.” He pinched his fingers together. “But I guess this is all we’re going home with today.”

 

“But you were able to get a rabbit right before it jumped into its burrow. I doubt any other Hoshidan archer could’ve made that shot, Lord Takumi!” Oboro shouldered a pack of rations on the end of her naginata. “I can get those, if you want.”

 

“No. One time I saw Ryoma shoulder a boar by its feet and haul it all the way back to the castle. With one hand.” He was never very good at hiding when he fumed, although she had to admit that his attempt at a glower ended up looking adorable as a result. Not that that would ever be a point of conversation between the two of them. 

 

They neared a bridge that was halfway to the hunting village where the soldiers stayed. Hinata, who usually accompanied them on guard, was bogged down by a bevy of chores, errands, and questions. That was the misfortunate side effect when the village that the prince had chosen for the base of his hunting expedition was governed by Hinata’s father. Sometime between the start of their day trip and their late afternoon return, a traveling merchant had set up a makeshift snack stand near the shade of the trees and the quiet brook that ran through the hillside.

 

“Let’s stop here for a rest,” suggested Oboro. Anything to get five minutes away from his complaints. As lovely a liege Lord Takumi was, he was impossible when he was in one of his moods about Lord Ryoma. And as much as she liked it when he would earnestly smile at her after a successful skirmish or simple enjoyment of a clear sky outside, there were many occasions that he had to be easier on himself. A good retainer was never overindulgent, after all.

 

A low, lyrical femalecut through her thoughts as she leaned on the flimsy vendor’s table, and looked up. Their waitress, a young woman with her hair too elaborately pinned to be a simple snack merchant, had approached. She balanced a tray of fresh tea and a small plate of sweets in one hand, and in the other held a paper fan that delicately framed her features, which fluttered against the front of her face as she cooled herself from the late summer sun. 

 

“You're staring..." She giggled. "Am I that lovely to you, young master?” Thesnapped-open paper fan fluttered two or three times in front of the waitress, who kept Prince Takumi’s gaze. Startled by the inquiry, he blinked back, not quite sure what to do with the question.

 

Oboro narrowed her eyes. Any young noble was known to wander off with admirers from time to time, but it was daylight and the woman, who was clothed in pale green with pine branches on her kimono, was being too bold for her liking. Much too bold for someone like Lord Takumi. Something an onmyoji had told offhandedly to a group of children one day had surfaced in her memories. She had volunteered to sweep up the temple grounds after a minor festival, and had heard him regale them with the tale of a woman who would ask that question. His story, like many tales of demons, were punctuated with grisly sound effects that would send the children into terrified shrieks. But it wouldn't do to simply go up to someone and ask outright if their intentions were good or not. 

 

“Of…of course you do-"

 

Seeing the waitress' smile widen and her eyes flash, Oboro cut in quickly. “What he is trying to say is that you could be lovelier if you let me make you a fabulous outfit.” Oboro clasped her hands together and drew out a measuring tape from her sash. “I can probably make an outfit to flatter that figure, and get everyone talking about how fetching you look at your next festival or market day.” When Oboro was younger, she had seen her parents turn on the charm for clients that had money, even if they were in the midst of an argument about bills or in the midst of a tangle of difficult clients. That was what had prepared her to deal with the challenges of living in the palace, as well.

 

Nobody told her that a seamstress’ business skills could be of use assessing whether a woman in front of her was human or not.

 

“Does that mean that you don’t think I’m beautiful now?” she sniffed, plucking at the skirt of her kimono and turning so that her hairpins caught the light at just the right angle. Her eyes shone so brightly and enticingly that Oboro was certain she wanted to affirm the woman’s looks as well, if only to be polite about it. But she held fast to what the priest had said that day.

 

“I think that…that seeing you smile would captivate me.” They had heard Ryoma use those exact words on a young lady during a diplomatic dinner weeks ago, and Takumi had copied it word for word. Oboro knew that his designs weren’t likely serious, but a jealous streak could run deep in her liege.

 

The fan folded itself up slowly, one pane at a time, as the waitress tilted her head. Though her face was in an almond shape that was fashionable among the court ladies, her lips had been cut—gouged deep, really— with a knife that had carved a permanent smile onto her face past lips to her jaw. Her teeth shone death-white in the dying light, sending a shiver down Oboro’s spine. Instantly, she remembered the onmyoji’s words. _Answer wrong, children, and she’ll ease the pain of her looks…with your blood._

 

“How about now, young master?” The waitress’ voice had a rattle to it that brought to mind the sound of a rasping crow. She grew to twice their height and loomed over them, drawing an enormous pair of scissors from her robes. Their blades were as keen as the katanas that Hoshido’s samurai wielded into battle.

 

“Absolutely not,” snapped Takumi, who was choosing his words about as carefully as he had been all day.Just then, the woman flared her blood-red tongue, and, with a degree of agility that Oboro would have deemed impossible on anyone wearing a kimono, lunged for them.

 

The last thought that crossed her mind before she took her Naginata in hand and stepped between Takumi and the demon was that men, as handsome as they could be, were as a whole not inspiring in the ways of the mind. Behind her, Oboro saw an arrow of light fit itself into the strings of the Fujin Yumi before her battle instincts took over and she whirled the spear around to block a blade’s strike. With the yowl of a wounded cat, the demonness shrieked as arrows, one after another, pinned her limbs to the sides of the cart. Tea, water, and debris went flying as Oboro leapt and slammed the blade into woman’s neck, her strike as certain as a tailor’s needle.

 

There was a satisfied glow about Takumi as he took the bloodied scissors from the slain yokai, who lay at their feet. As Oboro picked up their belongings, she felt a twinge of sadness pass through her. Despite their waitress being a demonness in disguise, the pale green had looked very well on her.

 

“This is amazing. I can’t wait to tell Ryoma about this—No,” he said, pausing suddenly. Takumi shook his head.

 

“No?” Oboro sighed inwardly. What was it now?

 

“The credit for this is all yours. I…I was a fool, to think so recklessly.” His smile had a bashfulness to it that, despite her resentment, sent heat straight to Oboro’s traitorous heart, which she knew beat a little faster. “You tried to get her to think about clothes, to keep me safe. I…I just wanted to be better than him in one thing, even if it was talking to women—not that you’re not a woman, of course…” he stammered, clearing his throat. Was it a trick of the light, or was his face redder than usual as well?

 

He regained his composure a little and spoke again. “The glory for that battle is yours, Oboro. Besides, I’ve heard that you’ve been able to make marvelous clothes.”

 

The scissors, now shrunken as they were free of the demon’s magic, shone bright silver in the dying light. Once given a good cleaning, Oboro was certain that they would find a place in her workroom.

 

“My duty was to protect you, Lord Takumi.”

 

“But did you know about that type of demon? I want to know, so that I can fight them as well as you did.” The warm clap of his hand on her shoulder made her stomach almost turn over, and she wish that it didn’t do that so easily.

 

She was no storyteller-priest, but there was one remaining possibility to the demon that they did not explore. Shouldering her things on the end of her spear once more, Oboro started the last leg of their trip back to the village. 

 

“Well, they say if you tell her she _is_ good looking when you've seen her true face, she lures you back to her lair…” As they made their wayback with a fine tale for the errand-ridden Hinata, Oboro laughed to herself.

 

Ryoma was their High Prince, and was likely to be a fine king in the years to come. But there was only one fierce, curious lord that had her attentions. And if he was as thoughtful as he could be, there would be no one else that contended for her heart for a very long time.

**Author's Note:**

> Japanese monsters are fun to write about. Takumi and Oboro fought a Kuchisake-onna, which is a fun and rather popular creature from urban legend. A bit sexist of a premise, but what can you do?
> 
> I took the pick-up line Takumi used from one of Ryoma's supports


End file.
